


Silence

by AmandaRex



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst-Free, F/M, FitzSimmons - Freeform, Fluff, Love, No Dialogue, PWP, Romance, set late season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-15 06:19:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5774872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmandaRex/pseuds/AmandaRex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the night Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons decide they're ready, no words will be necessary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silence

It was almost two in the morning as Fitz maneuvered the borrowed SUV through the Playground's outer defenses, finally pulling into the garage moments later after the long drive back. They'd been quiet in the car, quiet the entire night, actually, but in a way that felt more like peace than anything else. It was ironic, though. They'd spent years packing a week's worth of talking into a day, then too much time not talking when they should have. Time had finally brought them into balance, to a night when talking seemed irrelevant.

The last words they'd spoken had been hours ago. Fitz had mentioned the movie so casually, so noncommittally that it had seemed he was merely alerting her to its existence. Several moments later, he'd quietly added that he'd gotten clearance for the two of them to leave the base and see it together, if she were interested. It hung in the air for a beat and she felt silly when she realized it had been a question, then was unable to do more than meet his eyes and nod.

She'd worried for a moment he'd take her silence for lack of interest, but it didn't seem to bother him. He'd reached over the table and gave her hand a squeeze, then whispered a time to her before they went back to their work.

Silence used to be the worst thing that could happen between the two of them. In the early days, it had always made her worry that perhaps they weren't as in sync as she hoped they would be. More recently, it had been a measure of what they couldn't say to each other, of what they weren't ready to face within themselves. Tonight, the quiet had been different. It felt like a transition. A breath. They had emerged from their past, bundling it into memory and nostalgia, and they were transforming. They'd taken hands and set out together, these last steps of the journey implicitly understood between them and not requiring speech.

As she got out of the car, she realized she'd never seen him more at peace. Even his constant undercurrent of nervous energy seemed to be at rest. He clasped her hand in his as they met at the front of the car and walked together into the Playground. It was also oddly quiet, no world-threatening disasters, no cacophony of warriors and their weapons pelting through the hallways into battle.

They reached his room first and he paused, but just for a moment. She knew he wanted her to have the space to retreat if she needed to, to pull back into her solitary thoughts until she felt more ready, and he would have given that to her without her even having to ask for it. Their eyes met and she shook her head, the movement so slight she almost wasn't sure he'd seen it. His gentle tug on her hand as they continued toward her room showed her he had.

He hesitated again at her door, tilting his head just a bit as he looked down at her in the darkness. She turned fully toward him and stepped closer, resting her free hand lightly on his back. Through the soft cotton of his shirt, she could feel the muscles under her fingers twitch at the contact. She needed him closer. 

Fitz seemed to understand and wrapped one arm around her shoulder, pulling her toward him until she could feel the warmth of his body against hers. When his other hand found the side of her face, palm cradling her cheek and fingers just brushing into her hairline, she lost her breath. 

They stared at each other, into each other, and waited. He brushed his fingers along the side of her face. She slid her hands up his back, tracing a line up to his shoulders as her mind distantly supplied the medical terms for the bones and muscles she was mapping with her touch. They sounded magical, like an incantation, a fanciful notion she would have scoffed at in any other moment of her life. The words whispered through her thoughts. Scapula, trapezius, latissimus dorsi. She felt as though she'd chanted them like a spell to conjure him, allowing them to be here, together, in breathless wonder of each other.

She pulled at him, the movement tiny and subtle, but he understood right away. His head swept toward hers and he captured her mouth, teasing his lips against hers. They clung to each other and the universe tilted around them. Gravity had lost its grip on them and she was sure they were floating, hanging suspended in the air where no one and nothing could ever part them from each other again.

He pulled back and her eyes flew open, training on his mouth as he slowly rubbed his lips together. His tongue tipped out just a bit as though he felt her absence already and was looking for traces of her there. Fitz moved away and her fingers tensed on his back, urging him not to go.

Jemma turned them until her back was against the door and he moved with her. His eyes closed and his lips played over her cheek, pressing feather-light kisses to her skin, trailing toward her ear. When he placed a gentle, open-mouthed kiss against the pulse point on her neck, she gasped and pulled him closer. 

When he pulled away again, their eyes locked. She could feel herself trembling against him and he brushed his fingers across her lips, shivering himself when she kissed the pad of his thumb. When she reached behind her back to let them into her room a moment later, he gathered her securely in his arms and surged forward at the click of the door opening.

After it closed behind them, he kissed her again, slow and sweet, almost chastely. He held her face so tenderly that she could feel the tightening of her throat, as though her body was trying to keep the rush of emotions within her from spilling into the shadows of the room. His next kiss deepened, his fingers cradling her head as he held her to him. The control and restraint he'd shown just a moment ago abandoned him as she met every challenge of his lips with one of her own.

Her fingers toyed with the buttons down the front of his shirt, releasing two of them and starting on the third before he stilled her hands, his gaze boring into her. His eyes asked the question he couldn't seem to find the words to put to her, and she answered by beginning to work another button free, feeling his hands loosen around hers once he felt what she was doing.

Together, they pulled his shirt out of the waistband of his trousers and her hands began to work over his chest. She catalogued every detail with her fingers, following the lines from one feature to the next. She married the beat of her pulse in the tip of her index finger to his carotid, heady with delight at bringing the evidence of the internal rhythms of their bodies so close she couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. It was so simple, but after they'd each almost been taken from the other so many times, feeling the proof of his vitality under her hands filled her with gratitude for their shared existence.

He waited, patiently allowing her to learn him, and she drank him in. Every pore, every inch became hers as she found them with her eyes and her relentless hands. When the desire came for more, it was sudden and abrupt, making her push the fabric impatiently from his shoulders to tangle first at his elbows and then his hands, until it finally fell to the floor. His breathing was ragged and his forehead came forward to rest on hers. They shut their eyes and she savored another quiet moment, feeling nothing but him as she listened to the roar of white noise in her ears.

Once they'd taken several long breaths together, Fitz dropped to his knees, fisting his hands in the gauzy fabric of her shirt and pulling her to him. He leaned into her, his cheek flush with her stomach, and she drowned her fingers in the almost-curl waves of his shorter hair. He was so different now than the young man she'd first met and yet, at the core, still the same. Perhaps they could be that way together—different than they'd been before they'd had to struggle and change, but in essence, still the same somehow as well.

His trembling hands released her shirt in favor of venturing beneath and she gasped as his palm and fingers splayed over her bare abdomen. He drew one finger up her side, dipping into her waist and continuing up, pausing when he had just brushed against the curve at the underside of her breast. She steadied herself, palms on his shoulders, until her footing was solid, then she raised her arms in wordless invitation.

Fitz stood before her, taking her shirt by the hem and pulling upward, releasing her so slowly from it that it made her ache. He was watching his hand reveal her skin until he had to lift it over her face. He paused almost imperceptibly then and made eye contact. The bright blue of his irises was almost invisible around his blown out pupils in the darkness of her room, hardly there, just a sliver to help her tie the man standing before her to the Fitz of her memory.

When he'd drawn the fabric over her arms, there was a quiet swish as it fell to the floor behind her and he loosely covered her hands with his. His palms slid downward, slowly again, caressing every inch of her arms as they went. His head tilted as he watched the path of one hand, his gaze intent and focused as though he was a sculptor examining the smooth, perfect surface of his creation.

He reached her shoulders, then eased her toward him and encircled her in his arms. So much of their bare skin was touching that Jemma felt light-headed, the feeling intensifying when she realized this was merely the beginning. Placing an unhurried kiss to the hollow at the base of his throat, she leaned into him and curled her arms around her back, unclasping her bra and pushing the straps down her shoulders one by one until it dropped at their feet.

She moved away, apprehensive for just a moment until she saw the awed look on his face. He reached out, cupping her breast with his hand, his touch gentle at first, then more insistent as he bent his head to capture her mouth in another kiss. He seemed to be everywhere, all around her, warming her and adoring everything she had to offer him. Fitz was so familiar to her in so many ways, yet there was a stark newness to the feel of his hands where she had only imagined them before.

Every part of her was straining toward him, needing to close the distance and bring them together. She was overcome with the urge to impatiently pull at his hands and put them where she wanted to feel his touch, but she resisted. Her nipples strained to hardened points as they each waited for his attention, and when it finally came, she gasped at the sensation of his careful fingers tracing every aching contour in a slow, maddening circle. He barely made contact at first, deftly sweeping his fingertips over her. When their kiss grew more intense, his tongue slipping into her mouth, his hands were more insistent. Where they had merely ghosted over her before, they now cupped and caressed. The pressure was nowhere near painful, but it was enough to betray how badly he needed her.

Her own hands grew restless and she needed more of him, so they found their way to his waist and she began to work through the barriers keeping their skin apart. His belt came open under her shaking fingers, followed by the button and the zipper underneath. He'd begun working on unfastening her trousers as she'd struggled with his, and both items of clothing soon joined the rest on the floor. They broke their kiss and toed quickly out of their shoes and socks, Jemma smiling as Fitz had to hop a little to keep his balance. That little bit of reality should have threatened the mood, but it didn't. Everything about this, about them, might seem dreamlike, but with the warmth of his body so near, there had never been any doubt of the reassuring truth of what they were doing.

They paused again, still a pace apart, and his finger toyed with the lace at the top of her remaining item of clothing. It was a question, one she answered with her own hand over his, pushing downward to make her affirmation clear. After she'd stepped out of them and kicked them away, they pushed his last barrier away as well.

His palm flattened over her belly and she sighed when she felt the warmth from his hand against her. Her own hands tightened on his back and then dropped lower, straying deliberately into territory that had been forbidden before. She enjoyed his gasp, echoing the one that had been forced from her as he'd studied her breasts with his hands. He tightened his arms around her and she watched his eyes close, his head falling back as he held his breath, the tiniest crease appearing in his forehead as he concentrated on her touch.

She could feel him hardening against her, pressing into her stomach. She brought one hand between them, closing her palm around him. There were so many terms for it, both clinical and profane, that danced through her head as she committed this moment to memory. But above all, the thought echoing in her head was that this _Fitz_ , hard and warm in her hand, and this was a way she could bring him pleasure and show him her love. She moved her hand slowly along his length and listened to the way his breathing hitched, felt the tightening of his grip on her waist. 

She pushed him toward the bed, needing more, needing to feel his hands everywhere. She wanted to trace him with her fingers and her mouth, and to lie back and watch him explore her as well. He resisted her for a moment, looking pointedly toward the dresser next to her bed. She struggled to put meaning to the gesture for a moment, then realized his concern was for their mutual safety.

Jemma knew the results of their most recent physicals and had no reason to think anything had changed in the interim, and the implant in her upper arm would protect them both from life events they weren't yet ready for. She met his eyes and shook her head, pushing him more insistently toward the bed. He nodded, brushing his cheek against hers as he began to walk backward. 

Once they reached the bed, he sat back, pulling her into his lap. She straddled him, his hardness caught between their bodies, and he groaned and thrust himself against her. She nearly gave in again to impatience, knowing how easy it would be to shift her body a bit and take him inside of her, but she needed more.

Their eyes locked as he bucked against her again, the movement sharp enough that she had to brace her hands on his shoulders to regain her balance. His gaze burnt into hers before he ducked his head and took her nipple into his mouth, worrying at the tip with his tongue. She arched into him, trusting his arm curled around the small of her back to keep her from falling.

He nudged against her a little more and she threw her head back, leaning more heavily on his arm. He snaked his other hand between them, sliding down her torso until it reached the apex of her thighs. One finger teased through the tight curls there, then slid downward to brush against her clit. She tensed and moaned, and he moaned with her as he dipped briefly into her wetness and then back up to circle her clit.

He moved his hand slowly, sometimes gently and sometimes harder, watching her with heavy-lidded eyes. Every time her breath caught or her eyes closed, he seemed to learn from it, intensifying the exquisite torture as the rhythm and pressure of his finger inched closer and closer toward perfection. She whimpered as one of his impossibly deft fingers slipped inside her while the other never let up on the movements against her clit. He pulled her as close as he could and she leaned forward and took his earlobe into her mouth, needing to connect with him more closely as his hand drove her closer to oblivion.

Her universe contracted down to this room, to this bed, to this man. His lips ghosted over her shoulder, then bit down lightly, his tongue reaching out to taste her. Her breathing hitched and she had to release his earlobe, bracing her forehead on his shoulder as she felt her body begin to shudder. Her climax was coming and her mind raced, fragments of memories playing in her head. She remembered everything that had ever passed between them, the thrill of meeting him and discovering how much another person could mean to her, the pain of the rifts that sometimes had parted them, the overwhelming relief each time they were restored to each other.

When she was finally carried over the top and she felt her body contracting around his finger, she was dimly aware of his other arm tightening protectively around her back to hold her steady. Her back arched as he drew out each wave as it passed through her, continuing his movements until she went slack in his arms. He nuzzled into her neck as she tried to recover, fighting to catch her breath.

She came back to herself, still feeling lazy and dreamy but needing desperately to give him as much pleasure as he'd just given to her. She pushed on his shoulders, sitting forward until he was on his back under her. She moved to his side and urged him up until their legs were on the bed, then bent over him to drop light kisses to his chest and abdomen. She moved randomly at first, her hands fluttering over him along with her lips, but then she began to move purposefully downward as he twitched beneath her.

Her hand curled around his cock and a shocked gasp escaped him, his hand flying to the back of her head, his fingers gently twisting through her hair. She looked up at him and found him watching her, so she moved slowly, taking her time straddling his leg and arranging herself over him. She loosened her grip around him enough to trace her flattened tongue along the underside of his cock from the base to his tip, then closed her lips around him and took him into her mouth. She pulled away and swirled her tongue around him, about take him inside more fully again when his other hand cupped her cheek and he pulled her away. His face was wearing a complex expression, betraying his conflicting desires. His eyes were so dark and his breathing ragged, and she could see how close he was to losing control and how much he wanted to be inside her when he came, instead. She wanted that too, more than she'd ever wanted anything, so she shifted her weight to the side, falling to her back, and then pulled at his shoulders to urge him over her.

When he settled between her legs, bracing his arms next to her head, she sighed and relished the feeling of his weight pressing into her. He held himself there, the two of them looking at each other and she was filled with relief that they were finally here. She knew now that they could manage anything together, that they were truly two halves of one whole and she never wanted to be parted from him again.

A look of concern passed over his face and she wondered at it until she felt his fingers on her cheek, brushing away a tear that had escaped without her notice while she'd felt overcome by her love for him. She shook her head and smiled, trying to communicate that it was proof she was happy, deliriously so, and thankful that they had found their way to this moment.

He brushed her hair away from her face and kissed her, holding her face reverently in his hands. He seemed unhurried but she was growing more impatient, so she canted her hips upward to brush against him, gratified when his eyes closed in torment at the feel of them pressed together. She brought her hand downward, guiding him to her entrance, and he pushed slowly forward. He filled her gradually, inch by inch, and she arched beneath him. 

He paused just as he'd completely filled her and her mind latched onto one thought. This was _Fitz_ , the most important person in her life, the man who had shown her so much love and support even in their hardest times, and he was inside her, buried deeply within her and driving her almost to insanity. She held him to her, wanting him to stay there forever but, at the same time, desperately needing him to move.

After one breathless, still moment, he pulled back as slowly as he'd entered her. He was almost gone entirely when he drove forward again, surprising her with strength of the movement. She moaned as he twisted his hips against her, the pressure enough to make her squeeze her eyes shut with the perfection of it.

His thrusts sped up and she could feel his arms shaking a little, almost certainly not under his weight, but with a self-imposed burden to draw this out longer. She didn't want him to leave her, wanted to continue to feel him inside her as his strong, unyielding strokes sent sparks of pleasure through her entire body, but she needed to watch him lose control more. 

She shifted beneath him, angling her hips differently, immediately feeling his thrusts driving deeper within her. He groaned, the sound so low and gravelly it almost sounded dangerous. She urged him on with her hands caressing his shoulders, his back, anywhere she could touch, watching the war on his face as he fought to hold back. She wanted to see the breaking point, the moment when he had no choice but to helplessly crash into her until he found his release.

When she felt his weight shift to the side and his hand brush down her torso, it took until his finger pressed on her clit to realize that he meant to bring her with him. If she'd felt able to speak, she would have tried to communicate how unlikely it was she could climax again, but she couldn't find the words. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the feel of him moving inside her, feeling the improbably perfect coordination of his hand and his hips thrusting against her. She felt so wonderfully full, so adored by him, and a warmth began to grow inside her that she'd never really felt before.

Her eyes flew open and locked on his. He was so fascinatingly open, laid bare before her, and she knew he was hers and would be forever. She was overcome with the desire to spend the rest of her life returning this amazing gift he was offering her, blinking back tears again as it was all suddenly too much for her to comprehend.

At the moment her mind was too overwhelmed to take in the thoughts rioting through her, her senses took over. Fitz was everywhere, engulfing her and seeming to set every nerve ending in her body alight. She gasped when he found the exact rhythm she needed, the pressure from his finger against her perfect as he continued to drive into her. Before she could remember how impossible she would have considered it if she had the capacity to think it through, a second, much stronger orgasm spiraled through her.

His forehead braced on her shoulder and the pace of his thrusts became irregular as he finally gave up control, pulsing inside her as he shuddered in her arms. She drew him closer as the aftershocks washed over her, finding his mouth and pressing a deep, languid kiss on his lips.

As her heartbeat began to slow, she moaned with tired sadness when she felt him slipping from her. He kissed her again to alleviate the pain of the loss, each touch of their lips lazy and long and sweet. They seemed to mutually decide on the moment he should shift to the side and relieve her of his weight, both of them sighing as the fatigue washed over them.

They shifted a bit, their limbs sleepy and uncoordinated, to pull the blanket and sheets from beneath them. As Fitz tucked the covers around them and held her to him, her back snugly against his chest, she fell into the deepest, most content sleep she'd ever experienced. On this night, there would be no dreams, no panic, no terror overcoming her to break her from her rest. Fitz would hold her and they would sleep until morning came and they blinked themselves awake, each of them smiling privately to themselves at the moment they remembered where they were.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, some of that was so purple it was practically ultraviolet, but I wanted to experiment with a couple of things. If you have any inclination at all, please let me know what worked/didn't/squicked/etc. Even (especially?) if you hated it and want to anon PM me the 500 reasons why, I'm down. :) Much love to all my fellow Fitzsimmons-ers out there.
> 
> (Do moans and sighs invalidate the 'no dialogue' thing? I'm inclined to say no, but it feels a little tiny bit like a cheat.)


End file.
